


There's Never Been a Happy Ending For You

by actualbabe



Series: Tumblr Dialogue Prompts! [13]
Category: New Girl
Genre: Angst, Cop AU, DEA agent Nick, F/M, FBI agent Jess, no activity au, the unified theory of jakes, win it all au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualbabe/pseuds/actualbabe
Summary: DEA Special Agent Nick Miller's life is kinda in a tailspin, has been ever since he left LA and gave up on everything he ever loved. But when Jess comes back into his life after five years of them being apart, it's the best and worst thing to ever happen to him.---jakeyjohnson asked: “I feel like I can’t breathe” and/or “How could I ever forget about you?” MAKE IT ANGSTY PLS





	There's Never Been a Happy Ending For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jakeyjohnson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jakeyjohnson).



All in all, it’s been a pretty shit week for Ol’ Nicky Miller. It seems like every day something else goes wrong for him, wave after wave of failures and bad news that knocks him down each time, making it harder and harder to scrape himself up and face the next beat down. And now, the fucking icing on top of the goddamn cake of garbage, the kingpin they’ve been trailing for a good six months essentially vanished in the middle of the night, torching all of their leads and leaving them standing in the literally burnt-out remains of his abandoned hideout.

Nick scrubs his hands over his face for what must be the twentieth time that afternoon. “So you’re telling me we got  _nothing?”_

The forensics guy nods, looking nervous. Nick dimly wonders if the little team of nerds drew straws to see who would have to come talk to him. He doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being particularly calm in situations like these. “Sir, our team combed through what’s left, but the fire was strategically set a few hours before arrival.”

“So they knew we were coming,” he asks, mostly to himself, rubbing at his eye once again. Now Valdez has a source feeding him information from inside Nick’s own damn operation. Exactly what this assmunch of a situation needed. “Fuckin’ shit.”

The tech nervously clears his throat, flipping through his pages of notes on a beat-up clipboard. “We’ve only done a preliminary search-”

“Then do another fuckin’ one!” Nick snaps back, losing control of the little restraint he had left.

“Sorry,” the tech squeaks, his grip on the clipboard tightening in surprise at Nick’s outburst. “I’ll just-” he does an almost half-salute before scurrying away back towards the quickly dispersing pack of blue-jacketed techs.

Nick lets out a long, frustrated exhale. He kicks his toe at a piece of rubble at his feet, his hands set on his hips as he tries to figure out where the hell he’s supposed to go next with this investigation that’s spiraling quickly down towards the shitter. There’s gotta be something. Some trace of evidence or clue that isn’t just them grasping at the smoke lingering in the air. This is the last thing he needed this week. He’d been banking on this bust to turn this shitshow around, and instead he’s just digging his grave even deeper.

“Hey, Miller.”

“You better have good news for me, Peralta,” he warns, picking his eyes up off the ground to address his detective.

Jake cringes and another chunk of Nick’s hope plummets into the pit of his gut. “FBI’s here.”

“You’re shitting me.” Nick glances over Jake’s shoulder towards the entrance to the empty warehouse where, sure enough, there’s a suit-clad agent stepping out of a tinted car and flashing their badge at the officers they have stationed out on the street.

And of course, out of the thousands of employees at the Federal Bureau of Investigation,  _she_ had to be the one assigned to his case. She’s such a stark contrast to everything around her that it’s a shock he didn’t spot her on his own, with that bright blue blazer and skirt combo, not to mention the way she genuinely lights up any room she’s enters.

Jessica Day, the girl of his dreams, is here, in New York, standing in the middle of his fucked-up demise of a six-month drug cartel bust. It’s been ages since he saw her, back when they were both in LA and he was still a wide-eyed and innocent detective who just wanted to prove his dick of a father wrong by racking up the highest arrest record of the precinct. Back when he was dumb and reckless and stupidly in love with the straight-laced detective who sat across from him in the bullpen. Back when he actually knew what it felt like to be genuinely happy for more than a handful of hours at a time without the help of alcohol or drugs to take the edge off and dull his memories. Before he bought into the corruption he used to hate so much, using the extra cash to fuel his increasingly expensive poker habit.

He’s changed so much since then, it’ll be a wonder if she even recognizes him. Jess, however, looks just as incredible as she ever did, listening intently to his secondary detective Rosa and then jotting down her own notes in a tiny, ribbon-laden field book. She tucks a lock of her shorter hair back behind her ear when she looks back up to ask a question, biting down thoughtfully on her lower lip as she waits for her response.

It’s odd to see her hair cut above her shoulders. He’s so used to her long, tumbling locks, those soft brown curls that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. He remembers running his fingers through them on lazy Sunday mornings in his bed, Jess smiling sleepily at him as she nestled closer into his chest. The way it would fall down around his head when he eased her into his lap, a dark curtain that blocked out the early morning sunlight, her blue eyes still shimmering in the dim shadow. The sweet smell of it when she drew even closer to kiss him, his fingers tangled up in the hair at the nape of her neck, guiding her in a slow rhythm that was so seamless he wondered if they were specifically designed for one another.

Of course, that was  _before_ , back before she realized that she could do a hell of a lot better than him, and rightfully so. Now she’s moved on, snipped off all her memories of him and sloughed off that old version of herself to give rise to this stronger, more mature version of FBI Agent Jessica Day. She’s strong and beautiful and confident and smart and capable, just like she always was, but now she’s honed herself even further, sharper and faster and scaling the career ladder in leaps and bounds, just like he always knew she would.

Nick glances around the charred warehouse and wonders if there’s some excuse that he could feasibly use to duck out of his own crime scene. It’s been forever since he dredged up these memories of her. He left them all behind when he moved out, when he cut all of his ties to California and the loft, leaving nothing but a beat-up cardboard box of memories and a shitty mattress in his wake. That chapter of his life is behind him. He’s closed the book and left it abandoned on his bookshelf, trying to pretend like he never started it in the first place so he won’t feel guilty about giving it up. Now he’s living life without a plan, just the way he likes, no threat of expectations he can never live up to or futures that knows will never happen.

But then Jess spots him from across the room, and the resulting smile on her face jolts his begrudging heart into high gear.  _Fuck, he missed her smile._

“Nick!” she says brightly, the hard heels of her flats clicking on the concrete floor as she quickly closes the gap between them.

“Hey, Jess.” Nick does his best to mirror her enthusiasm, but it still rings hollow in his own ears. He holds his hand out to her for a handshake, his professional reflex enough to override the intense anxiety boiling in the chasm of his stomach.

But in true Jessica Day style, she ignores his gesture and instead pulls him in for a brief hug, rising up on her tiptoes so she can reach an arm up over his shoulder to give his back a friendly pat. He catches a faint splash of her flowery perfume as his head ducks briefly into the gap above her shoulder, his own arm tentatively wrapping around her back in a way that feels like it’s only a touch more than platonic.

“Oh, I missed you,” she gushes, her voice ringing in his ears even after she pulls away.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” he agrees in what is decidedly the understatement of the year. His head is still reeling from even the briefest moment of intimacy between them, memories of feelings long-forgotten flooding back into his chest in a way that makes his shirt suddenly feel too tight. There’s a bit of a pregnant pause between them, in which Nick flounders for what he ought to say next and Jess seems far too content to let the silence linger. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” Jess’ cheeks turn a faint pink and she absently reaches up to brush her hair back behind her ear. It makes his ego swell a half inch, stupidly interpreting what is a decidedly friendly remark between old friends. “So do you.”

Nick’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really?”

“No.” Jess giggles, and Nick’s face returns to its usual unamused frown. “What on earth is that mess in your hair? And is that a gold chain?”

“Hey,” he whines, his hand flying up to his temple. Okay, yeah, it’s not exactly the same as what he used to wear, but that was five years ago, and it’s not like he hasn’t changed a whole damn lot since then.

Jess’ grin just grows wider in spite of his protest. “You look like Schmidt.”

“Now you watch your mouth,” Nick mock-threatens, raising his finger up towards her with a scowl. It’s all bark and no bite, just him trying to fall into their usual argumentative banter. It’s like trying to learn to bike again, his muscle memory only half-succeeding while he muddles his way through trying to remember how to do something that once felt like second nature.

“I’m just teasing,” she reassures him, her blue eyes still sparkling with mirth before shifting into something slightly more serious. “I do like the beard, though.”

Nick rewards her compliment with a half smile, his hand drifting back to scratch at the corner of his jaw. It’s the one addition that he’s actually felt half-decent about ever since he moved out east with the DEA. His eyes dart over her face, and he’s suddenly reminded of just how pretty she is. Not that he ever really forgot about it, but it catches him by surprise all the same. “So, uh, are you and the doctor still…”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Jess almost seems caught off guard by his question, but quickly recovers into her usual cheery disposition. She raises her left hand, and there’s the unmistakable glimmer of a pretty expensive looking ring. “We’re engaged, actually.”

“That’s great,” he manages to choke out, despite the lump that’s quickly building up his throat.

“Yeah,” she agrees, almost like she doesn’t quite believe it herself, but not in a good way. “And what about you? Anyone special?”

“Well, I had plans for this Friday to celebrate my one-year anniversary with my girlfriend,” Nick explains, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he tries to remain mock-casual. “I was going to surprise her with these really nice restaurant reservations, but then she surprised  _me_ by dumping me instead.”

Jess’ face falls into a frown as she coos sympathetically, “Oh, Nick.”

He ignores her look of pity and continues, chuckling to himself as he tries to find the humor in his shitty plight. “Yeah, apparently her friend got her to a party where she met Michael Phelps and she decided that she would rather try her luck with him than a loser like me.”

She doesn’t laugh though. Instead her look grows even sadder. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he lies, shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance. “Wasn’t working out, really.”

There’s another odd moment between them, the unspoken acknowledgement of what they used to have together, the messy way they left things afterwards. Nick feels like he ought to say something, but he doesn’t know what he really wants to say to begin with. And what he’s said to Schmidt when he was drunk off his ass on tequila is a whole different ball game as compared to the reality of having Jess right here to actually hear him out.

“So,” Jess clears her throat, breaking the tension and suddenly shifting into all-business as she flips back through her extensive, well-organized notes. “What have we got?”

—

It’s good to be working with her again. It makes him feel more grounded, and even having Jess in the room with him makes him see their previously collected intel with fresh eyes. Jess is fucking incredible at what she does, and it’s no surprise why they would send her out to help him with the case. Normally he’d be pissed off to have some higher up government-assigned chaperone craning their neck over his shoulder and critiquing his every move, but with Jess he doesn’t seem to mind at all. To the contrary, he often seeks her out specifically when there’s something he feels like he’s struggling with.

They crack down on security to try and weed out the mole, and within a matter of days they get a confession out of one of their suspiciously new officers that ends up leading them to a whole other potential avenue of investigation that they had no clue about previously. Jess steps out of the interrogation room with the sleazebag’s signed confession in her hand, her triumphant smile outshining the weary shadows under her eyes and the frazzled mess of her hair where she’s haphazardly tied it back. Nick pulls her into a congratulatory half-hug, his heart aching for the briefest moment as he remembers how these things used to happen between them, top of the line detectives Day and Miller taking LA by storm and locking up perps like it was the easiest thing in the world.

That’s the worst part about working with her, because every moment they’re together brings on another wave of memories from when they were still dating, when he was allowed to let his gaze and touch linger on her, when he didn’t have to think through the underlying meaning of the words he was about to say, when he didn’t have to pull back every time they got close, as if she was a live wire that could kill him if he happened to so much as brush up against her. Every brief glance and subtle contact and sweet smile sends his mind reeling, trying to pick apart the clues to determine whether she’s just being friendly or if there’s secretly something more lying beneath the surface.

Having Jess around is too much of a temptation, like putting a glass of water in front of a man dying of thirst. He keeps catching himself just looking at her sometimes, his eyes tracing over the curves of her face and the way she’s matured into some whole new realm of beauty. But then he has to drag his eyes down to the ring on her finger, shining dully in the fluorescent lights overhead and proclaiming that she isn’t his anymore, that she moved on to some handsome doctor who’s twelve times the man he’ll ever amount up to being.

It’s good in a way, because it reminds him of why he left LA in the first place. When he and Jess broke up, it absolutely destroyed him. He lost the love of his life and his best friend in one fell swoop. He’d retreated back to his own room across the hall from hers in defeat, head hung low and feeling the weight of the entire world pressing down on his shoulders. And to twist the knife in his gut, he couldn’t ever get some space from the situation, not while they were both still living in the loft that they shared with their fellow officer Winston Bishop. Jess was so close to him and yet leagues apart, so convinced that he couldn’t see a future together with her that she decided to call things off completely.

The breakup hurt like a motherfucker, but even worse was what came after. Jess picked things back up with her ex: the handsome, tall doctor who broke her heart the first time around when Jess kept trying to pretend like she was okay with being someone’s casual hookup. But all of a sudden Hot Sam had changed into this perfect boyfriend that Jess was always gushing about, how he took her out for fancy dates and wanted to introduce her to his parents and how he was just  _so good_ in the sack.

And no matter how hard Nick tried to deal with it, tried to shove it all back to the dark recesses of his mind and drown out the sound of them just across the hall, he couldn’t handle it. It drove him up the wall, and he almost felt like he was insane for it, because Jess didn’t seem to see anything wrong with what she was doing and Winston just kept his nose out of the whole thing, leaving Nick to fend for himself, save for the occasional remark about how Nick needed to move on.

The only one who ever got it was Schmidt, but the rich bastard lived in the apartment across from theirs, so there wasn’t much he could do about the situation other than let Nick crash on his couch when things got particularly bad. Schmidt was his only solace during the whole disaster, who poured him drink after drink without question or judgement, because he knew that sometimes the only way to cure a broken heart was by drinking to forget, which has always been Nick’s sweet spot. And Schmidt was the one who told Nick he needed to get some control back in the situation, even if he was nearly blackout on a truly despicable number of vodka crans.

So Nick, drunk out of his mind, gave Jess an ultimatum: it was either Sam or him. But then instead of answering, Jess just started to tear up, and Nick slurred out a mess of apologies before stumbling off to his room. He’d fallen into bed, feeling like an asshole, and decided that he didn’t need her to tell him that he was the one royally fucking up whatever was left between the two of them.

A job opened up at the DEA the next day, and within the end of the month Nick was packing up to leave for New York. Jess had sat in silence as she watched him clear out his desk, her mouth turned down in a slight pout as he threw away handful after handful of the assorted mess of contents from the depths of his desk. He kept waiting for her to say something, for her to tell him to stay or that she didn’t want him to leave. But instead she just sipped at her tea, and Nick walked out of the division office without looking back.

They never talked about what happened that night, even though Nick’s pretty sure he knows what her answer was. Because now she’s engaged to Dr. Sam and it’s been well over five years since she tried to reach out to him, and the only reason she did so was because work forced her hand.

—

He really fucking hates himself sometimes. He’s used to hating things, to approaching every change and situation with a reflexive distaste and annoyance. So his self-loathing is essentially second nature by now, an omnipresent disdain for his every decision that lingers in the back of his head no matter what he does to do to shake it off. It almost goads him on in a way, as if he’s constantly acting in spite of what that annoying little voice keeps telling him what he ought to be doing, that he’s a disappointment to everyone who ever believed in him, that he’s turned into the epitome of what he always hated the most.

Nick remembers sitting in the back of a place like this when he was barely older than eleven, swinging his legs restlessly back and forth while he watched his dad gamble away what was supposed to be the payment for their water bill and electric bill and rent. He always swore that he would be better than this, that he wouldn’t fall into Walt’s footsteps and would instead blaze an honorable path for himself.

Instead he’s forged his own place at the table, cracked ashtray to his left and half-empty plastic cup of beer to his right, his pile of poker chips paid for at the expense of the good people of New York City. He leans back in his chair and takes a drag from his cigarette as the play passes on to the next guy at the table. Nick knows that he’s dangerously close to the red for the night, and that he really ought to cash out before he gets even further in the hole and ends up having to go back to his guy in the major crimes division for another cashout.

But he doesn’t. He loses the next hand, and the next, and the next, slipping further and further into the hole with every ante that he can’t afford and makes anyways. He’s got nothing and he knows it, he’s losing and he can’t stop it, he feels like shit ground down into the sidewalk and yet he can’t stop, just keeps chasing after the feeling with every round he buys into.

He left LA because he fucked up everything he had there, because his connection to Jess was nothing but a smoldering bridge he’d burned while he was too stupidly drunk to bite his tongue and push through it. So when he came to NY to reestablish himself on a new ground, the foundation he built was one cemented in self-loathing and drinking himself stupid at night so he wouldn’t remember the sting of her rejection. Then one night one of the guys on his new squad invited him out for a night of poker where he first became acquainted with the feeling of having nothing and being a loser and being broke that somehow clicked in his head, that convinced him that he deserved to feel like absolute shit, that it was a feeling worth chasing because this was how a guy like him was supposed to feel.

It was all downhill from there really, and it seemed like without Jess around there wasn’t really any reason for him to try and climb out of the hole he was sinking into, so he just kept on digging. He kept drinking too much and picked up smoking again and settled in with a new crowd of ‘law enforcement’ who were more in it for the money than anything else. He gambled away nearly all the cash he had on hand week after week, dipping into the spoils of his raids when he came up short, because that’s what all of his buddies on the DEA did.

Weeks turned into months turned into years and suddenly Nick could barely recognize himself anymore, like looking into a mirror was like staring at some kind of doctored up photo instead of his own reflection. But it doesn’t matter, none of it does, because it’s all his fault anyways. He’s the orchestrator of his own demise and this downward spiral is the culmination of his lifetime of one failure after the next.

But now, with Jess back in his life, there’s a growing urge to bail out of this, to clean up his act and actually get his shit together. And yet having her around simultaneously makes him want to spin out even harder, because not only does he know he’ll never have her, he also knows that she’s with someone else now, and that it’s only a matter of time before she packs up and heads back out west, leaving his self-sabotaging ass behind to drag himself back into the mud.

“Hey, Miller,” the dealer’s voice cuts into his train of thought, hauling him back into the painful reality where it’s his turn to decide what he wants to do next.

“Yeah,” he agrees after the slightest moment of hesitation, his hand drifting up to rub at his bearded chin. “I’m in.”

—

After days of early mornings and long nights full of intense work on the Valdez case, things suddenly start to materialize into something half cohesive. It’s ridiculously late on a Friday night and Nick feels decent enough about what they’ve got to justify finally going home to get some rest while they wait for new developments. He drops into their workroom to close up all their evidence for the night when he runs into Jess, who is still pouring over her pages and pages of meticulous notes, her jacket discarded over the back of her chair and an ice-cold styrofoam cup of coffee abandoned beside her.

“Hey,” he interrupts, flicking the overhead lights on and off to catch her attention.

Jess blinks and her head pops up in surprise, looking around in confusion until she spots him at the door.

“C’mon.” Nick jerks his head over his shoulder.

“Oh, no,” she shuffles back though her notes. “I’ve got some more work still-”

“You’re exhausted,” he interrupts. “Driving yourself into the ground isn’t going to do anyone any favors.”

Jess bites down on her lower lip in a mix of worry and contemplation before hesitantly standing up from the desk and beginning to carefully rearrange her things back into her assorted folders. Nick nods in approval and starts to sort everything back into place, drawing the blinds shut to the little room and making sure that they’ve got everything really important still intact. He holds the door open for her on the way out and triple checks the lock behind them before waving for her to lead the way down the hall.

They’re oddly quiet in the elevator, exhaustion from the last few hectic days settling into their bones and muscles until it seems like everything seems to be going a half click slower than normal. The elevator finally arrives at the ground floor, and Nick’s suddenly struck with a wave of realization that even after spending literally all day with her, he’s not quite ready to say goodnight to Jess quite yet.

“You wanna get a drink?”

She turns to look at him in surprise, and then a slight quirk of a smile appears at the corner of her mouth. “Sure.”

—

Nick takes them to a grungy hole-in-the-wall dive bar, but it’s cozy and the drinks are cheap and it’s quiet enough that he can actually hear her over the din of everyone else and the warbling jukebox. He had a good night at the tables this past weekend, so he buys round after round of pink wine for her and beer for himself, smiling at the way she starts to get all flushed and giggly as the alcohol starts to seep into her system.

It’s not too long before they’re a handful of drinks deep and fall back into their usual bickering banter. They reminisce over the good old days and catch up on the milestones that they missed while they were so far apart. It feels like it used to be with her, easy and simple where he didn’t have to think so hard about anything. Jess is a touchy feely drunk, and she reaches out to brush up against his arm and hand when she talks to him, letting the contact linger just a moment too long. Meanwhile Nick does everything he can to make her laugh, the rush of seeing her smile inexplicably getting him higher than any drug he’s ever tried.

“I mean, she was just  _awful_ ,” he complains, leaning a little too hard on the structurally questionable table of their booth. “Like I would try to talk to her, and it was as if she was from some other planet.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t  _that_ bad,” Jess counters, cradling her wine glass between her hands as she leans in a touch too close into him, her suit jacket abandoned in the seat beside her and her blouse starting to slip down to give him a flash of what lies beneath the v-shaped neckline.

He shakes his head as he swallows another drink from his beer. “No, really. It was like she had been on Earth for twenty minutes and was now trying to explain to me all the wonderful things she’d discovered.”

Jess giggles again and leans back against the booth, her head brushing up against where he’s slung his arm over the top of the cushioned seat. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“I listened to her explain what stoplights do for, I shit you not,  _an hour_.”

Jess collapses into a new round of uncontrollable laughter, and Nick beams at her, his chest swelling with pride at her infectious delight. It takes her a moment to recover, and Jess holds up a finger for him to wait so she can take another sip of her wine before she continues, “But you’re the one who dated her for a year.”

“Well, yeah.” Nick ducks his head back down towards the table, his thumb wiping at the condensation on his nearly empty glass. “If you can even call it dating.”

“What do you mean?” Jess’ brow furrows in confusion.

Nick sighs, wondering how much he really ought to divulge, but his filter is too muddled by alcohol to really be much help. “I mean it wasn’t like a real relationship. Like sure, we did the whole label thing, but we never talked about real shit, like meeting each other’s parents or moving in together or you know, if we loved each other or whatever.”

“That sounds awful.”

“I mean, yeah,” he agrees, cause it’s the truth, isn’t it? “But I got here and that’s all I really wanted, ya know? I slept with these women I met during the last call at the bar who went home with me because I was there and they were drunk.” Nick shrugs and takes another swill of beer. His filter’s completely blown out by now, so far gone that he doesn’t even consider holding back any of his ugly truths from her. “Cause it was easier, I guess, to sleep with this string of terrible women that just made me feel terrible afterwards.”

“Nick…” Jess is frowning at him, but not her disappointed frown or mad at him frown. Instead she just looks genuinely sad for him. “You deserve so much better than that.”

“I dunno. I mean, my life’s kinda a fuckin’ trainwreck right now.” He shrugs his shoulders again, the words pouring out of him before he even gets a chance to realize he ought to stop it. “And then dating these girls, it’s almost like i’m trying to get you outta my system. Like I’m searching exact opposite of how incredible it was to be with you, and if I dated these blonde haired girls who didn’t give a damn about what I actually cared about, then maybe I could eventually forget about what I lost when I had to leave you behind.”

Jess worries her lower lip with her teeth, some complicated mix of emotions in her eyes that he’s way too inebriated to pick apart. “I thought you’d forget about me.” She sounds part upset and part surprised, like she she’s mad at him but can’t quite believe why she has to be.

“How could I ever forget about you?” Nick scoffs. How could she not know that she was the best thing to ever happen to him? “I mean, shit, Jess. I miss you so goddamn much. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe, like being here without you just sucks all the air outta the room.”

Jess seems lost for words at his admission, her eyebrows slightly scrunched together as she tries to process what he’s telling her, her jaw visibly clenched and her frown firmly in place. She tries to open her mouth to say something, but then she falters, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she closes it again to instead reach for her wine glass and finish off the last bit of liquid left.

“You want another round?”

“Um…” There’s a look in her eyes that realizes they don’t need it, and Nick knows that she’s probably right. Things are getting out of hand, and he’s starting to say things he’s gonna deeply regret tomorrow when he’s nursing the mother of all hangovers. But then she surprises him by saying, “Yeah.”

Nick sets his hand on her shoulder for support as he stands up from the booth, but his touch lingers on the silky sleeve of her blouse for a few seconds longer than is really necessary. But Jess doesn’t pull away from him, her eyes traveling up the length of his bare forearm where it sticks out from the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt with a gleam of something almost like appreciation in her gaze. Then she seems to notice that he’s caught her looking, but instead of trying to cover it up, she inexplicably lifts her empty wine glass back up to her lips, her eyes still glued to his. It sends a shiver up his spine, and Nick has to literally tear himself away from her in order to fulfill his promise to get more drinks.

There’s a moment of silence when he returns to their table, and Jess accepts her fresh glass of wine with a gracious smile. She’s still sitting too close to him, so he has no other choice than to lean into her space as he slides into the booth beside her. Nick takes a long draw of his beer, his head still spinning as he tries to slot this sudden twist of events in alongside the fact that Jess is engaged to someone else and has absolutely no business in flirting with him. Then Jess absently presses the side of her wine glass against her cheek, and it’s just unexpected enough to make his attention glued to it, trying to make sense of whether she’s doing it on purpose or if it actually is completely involuntary.

“I’m up for promotion,” she finally says, cutting through the odd quiet that’s settled between them.

His brain mercifully manages to latch onto her words, a welcome distraction for whatever is starting to simmer between them. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Jess looks over the bar, almost confused, and a little voice in the back of his head wonders if she really  _has_ had too much to drink. “They want me to move out here to supervise a larger circle of more important operations. That’s why I’m working your case. It’s a sort of trial run before I officially have to decide if I want to take the job.”

“Jess,” Nick stammers out, his thoughts suddenly kicking back into high gear to process what she’s telling him. “That’s amazing.”

She nods in agreement, turning her gaze back away from the pool table in the corner of the bar to look at him instead. “Sam doesn’t want me to take it. Says he’s too established at his LA practice to justify moving across the country.”

“Sam’s an ass,” he says without even a moment of hesitation. That’s just the facts, not his own opinion of the two of them and how her relationship with Sam never really seemed to be healthy, not when she could do so much better with literally anyone else. This promotion would be a huge deal for her career, and the fact that she would finally be close to him once again has absolutely nothing to do with it. “You should take the job.”

“I don’t know.” Jess sets her glass back down on the tabletop, spinning the stem between her index finger and thumb. “Every time I think I’ve made up my mind something happens to change it back.”

“Jess.” Nick reaches out for her hand to cover it with her own. The touch makes her freeze up in response, but he holds onto her anyways. She’s so close to him now, closer than she has been in years, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna let her go without a fight. “You have to take it. I don’t know why you wouldn’t. And if Sam can’t handle it, well…” he trails off, unsure of whether he ought to close out the rest of that sentence or leave it up to her to fill in the blanks. “I mean, it’s your career. You’ve wanted this for as long as I’ve known you.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.” Nick sounds like he’s joking, but he’s never been more serious about anything in his life. “You’re amazing, and incredible, and smart, and brilliant, and this is the kind of thing you deserve.”

Her hand shifts in his, and for a terrifying moment Nick worries that he’s gone too far, that she’s about to yank away from him and storm out, that he’s finally managed to ruin what they have once and for all. But then he realizes that she’s not pulling away, and that she’s knitting their fingers together instead, and his heart fucking soars in his chest at the feel of how right it is to have them fitted perfectly between his own.

“You really mean that?” she breathes, voice barely above a whisper.

They’re close, impossibly close, far far too close, and Jess’ eyes dart down to his lips and Nick’s suddenly aware of the pool of sweat collecting at the pit of of his back when her teeth tease over her lower lip. His eyes lock back onto hers, and her breath catches when he leans in another fraction of an inch to whisper his response.

“Cross my heart.”

—

Jess practically drags him out of the bar, her hand gripping his like a vice as she leads him around the corner before shoving him back against the brick wall of the abandoned, shadowy alley. Nick barely has a chance to get a word in edgewise before her lips are on his, sloppy and merciless while at the same time exactly what he’s fantasized about more times than he can count over the past five years.

His first instinct is to freeze up, because there’s no way he expected this sudden turn of events, even though he knows damn well that he’s been flirting with her all night and that pink wine has a history of making her feel particularly daring and risque. It dimly occurs to him that they’re both fucking hammered and she’s  _engaged_ and that this is the absolute worst thing that either of them could do right now.

But then, after barely a second of hesitation, Nick grabs her by the waist and hauls her closer to him, fitting his lips against hers and tilting his head just a few degrees to get that perfect angle. Jess moans and then brings her tongue into the mix, surprisingly well finessed given her total alcohol consumption this evening. It kicks the heat between them up another notch, and Nick’s hand drifts down to fondle her ass while the other skirts up under her jacket and the hem of the back of her blouse, his fingertips dancing over the heat of her bare skin for her lower back.

They make out for a glorious stretch of time during which Nick completely loses track of time and space and anything other than the rhythm of her mouth against his, the feel of her body against his own, and the fucking decadent sounds he’s able to coax out of her. All those other concerns about the consequences of this incredibly stupid decision and his own self loathing dissolve in an instant, cast away to the far-off recesses of his mind that might come back to haunt him in the morning but don’t matter because that’s decades away from right here and right now.

Jess the first one to break away, her lipstick smeared and cheeks flushed pink to match. “Do you have an apartment?” she asks him, still struggling for breath.

Nick knows he should say no. That he should offer to get her a ride back to her hotel safe and sound. That he should put a stop to whatever absolutely horrible decision they’re about to make. That there’s too many consequences to outweigh whatever short-term bliss he’s currently chasing.

He also doesn’t fucking care.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head still lust-stupid. “Lemme get a cab.”

—

It’s a wonder that they make it into his apartment while still fully dressed. They’re so disgustingly all over each other in the back seat of the taxi that Nick feels guilty enough to tip the driver an extra five bucks for his troubles before chasing Jess out onto the street. She hauls him into another kiss in the stairwell and then yet another in the hallway outside his door while he fumbles to get the key into the damn lock.

They finally make it in and Nick slams the door shut behind them before crowding her up against it, and Jess lifts her legs up to wrap around his waist as he does. Her hands run through his hair as she kisses him frantically, her fingers messing up his slicked-back locks.

“I fucking hate your hair like this,” she mutters when he breaks away to trail kisses down her neck.

“Good thing I have you to muss it up, then,” he counters before sucking on that spot on her neck he knows drives her absolutely wild.

Jess doesn’t have a comeback to that, she just scratches at his shoulders beneath his dress shirt and lets out an accompanying moan. She writhes against him and Nick moves his hands up underneath her ass to carry her back in the direction of his bedroom.

“I feel bad for your fiancé,” he manages to stammer out once they’re standing next to the bed, his hands faltering slightly as they undo the buttons of his shirt. That’s the harsh truth of it, that she’s engaged and that what they’re about to do, what they’ve already done, it’s a betrayal of the man she’s promised to spend the rest of her life with. And he’s the asshole who’s jumping at the chance to do so, to be the guy who doesn’t have the decency to put a stop to the horrible mistake she’s about to make.

This isn’t how he used to be. He used to be straightforward and honest, used to take girls out on real dates instead of trying to pick them up at the bar after one too many rounds of drinks. He didn’t use to take cuts of recovered drug money and use it to fund his illegal weekend gambling. He used to be the kind of guy that deserved a girl like Jess. But then he got too afraid that he fucked it up and lost her.

And maybe that’s what this really is, that he traded that guy he used to be for this new asshole alternate-Nick who’s cocky and more than a little arrogant, who doesn’t play by the rules but always manages to get the job done. Part of him misses old Nick, wishes he could move back to LA and slip back into being the cranky, lovable detective who always wanted to do the right thing, like an old sweater he could dig up from the dusty depths of the closet in his room of the loft. But he can’t, and the truth of it is that it’s Jess who always brought the best out of him, that made him want to be better in every sense of the word. He’s lost without her.

But maybe she’s changed too, because Jess doesn’t even miss a beat as she kicks off her shoes, her eyes still dangerously dark with lust as she watches him undress. “I don’t,” she counters, shrugging out of her blouse before tossing her bra to the side, and Nick’s brain isn’t really capable of words beyond that point.

She rides him hard and fast, her hips swiveling hypnotically as she grinds down into his lap, so tight and wet and perfect that it makes his toes curl against the sheets of his bed as he grips her tighter and urges her along in her steady rhythm. Nick slides his hands up from her hips to her tits, cupping them in the broad palms of his hands as Jess picks up the pace, her neck thrown back in pleasure as she does.

_“Fuck,”_ he groans, his hips bucking up into hers as he tries to keep up with her near-frantic rhythm.

Jess nods in agreement, her bangs stuck to her forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. Her own hands shift from where they were braced on his chest to slide up the slick length of his arms, lighting up a trail of fire from her fingertips against his skin as she goes. She stops at his wrists, her thumbs brushing over the delicate skin on the insides, and Nick dimly wonders if she can feel the thundering of his pulse.

Then she takes his hands in her, twining their fingers together as she presses them into the mattress on either side of his head. Nick can feel the metal of her ring, and there’s another warning alarm that sounds off in his head, reminding him of what an absolute dirtbag he is to be fucking his ex-girlfriend who is engaged to some other guy.

But then Jess leans in close to him, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of his throat, and suddenly all these complicated feelings about himself and guilt fly right out the window, overshadowed by the reality of how she feels right now, in this moment.

_“Oh my god, Nick,”_ she gasps, her grip flexing on his hands as she tightens around him.

He’s real fucking close, and he can tell she is too, the way her eyes are screwed shut and brow slightly scrunched up in concentration.  _“Fuck, honey,”_

Then Jess surprises him by kissing him, but it’s different from the others they’ve shared that night. It’s softer, sweeter even. The beauty and novelty of it shoves him over and he comes, mind shuddering into a white bliss that overwhelms him completely.

When he finally pries his eyes back open, Jess is bonelessly sprawled out on top of him, chest heaving to catch her breath and her skin still slick where its pressed against his. After another moment Jess rolls off to lie on her side and Nick kicks the blanket up from the foot of the bed to cover the both of them, settling into the mattress with her tucked into him.

They lie there for a while, his arm wrapped round her waist to hold her close while Jess’ fingers trail over his chest, her head propped up on his shoulder. On a whim, Nick cranes his neck to press a kiss to the top of her head, the satisfaction of having her back in bed with him enough to overwhelm the cloud of what this really means that’s looming over their heads. A part of him wants to just stop here, to capture this moment in a time capsule and never leave it again, let it stay preserved in the back of his mind where he can’t ruin it.

“I think Sam’s cheating on me,” Jess says suddenly, her words cutting through the silence of his bedroom.

Nick sits up, ignoring the noise of protest Jess makes when he pulls out of her grasp. So that’s what this is about. She’s just using him to get back at Sam. She doesn’t care about him, she never did. This was all just some plot to get him to sleep with her so she could rub it in her fiancé’s face when she gets back home. He’s just another bargaining chip for her to outdo Sam with, a meaningless fling because he’s always been too quick to give in to her.

“I need a cigarette,” he bites out, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and throwing on whatever’s closest to his reach.

There’s the squeak of the bed as Jess sits up beside him, still holding his blanket up around her shoulders. “You smoke?”

“Yeah.” Nick hauls himself up out of bed and snags the carton and his keys off the top of his dresser before stalking out of the room. “I’ll be back.”

Jess doesn’t try to follow him, just watches in disbelief as he disappears out of his own apartment. Nick slams the door shut behind him, relishing the angry thud it makes and the way it rings in his ears.

—

He stakes out a spot on the tiny little open-air alcove on his floor, the one that’s practically a designated smoking spot with three cigarette dispensers strategically placed by the door and on either side of the wooden bench that takes up nearly all the space. Nick lights up out of sheer muscle memory as he paces back and forth, but not even the sweet bite of the nicotine can dull the swirling storm of his thoughts.

How could he be so stupid? It’s been years since he saw Jess, and barely a week of working together isn’t enough to rewrite the fact that he left her, burned their bridge to ash and then abandoned her without a proper explanation other than a drunkenly slurred apology. He’s a ruiner. He ruins things. There’s something bad inside him that makes him fuck up whatever he sets his hands on, like he’s the King Midas of destroying perfectly good relationships.

He hates himself. He fucking hates himself. He hates himself for being such a goddamn idiot, for blindly trusting her and reading into what was never even there to begin with. He hates himself for never letting go of her, for falling head over heels and then refusing to give her up, even when every sign in the universe told him to. He hates himself for having so little restraint and dignity that he jumped into bed with her the first moment that he could, that he didn’t even stop to consider how it would come around to bite him in the ass.

The funny thing is, he doesn’t hate her. This is all his fault, just like it always was and always will be. Jess is upset and drunk and let her emotions get the best of her. He’s the one who should’ve noticed that things weren’t going well between her and Sam when she told him back at the bar, and instead of capitalizing on it to make his move, he should’ve backed off and let her air out her grievances before encouraging her to try and make amends with him.

Nick comes to a stop and takes a long drag from his cigarette before letting out a exhale that’s equal parts frustrated and exhausted. He knows what he has to do, even though it’ll make him hate himself even more than he already does. Nick finishes off the rest of his cigarette before flicking it down onto the ground, ignoring the plethora of proper waste receptacles in favor of the satisfaction of crushing it out beneath his hastily tugged-on boot.

—

Jess is still in bed when he lets himself back into his apartment. She’s wearing one of his spare t-shirts, and Nick has to fight back the surge of interest he gets in response to seeing her like this all over again. It brings back a wave of memories of when things were simpler, when it was just the two of them still together and things weren’t so… complicated. He clears his throat and Jess looks up from her phone before shutting it off with a soft  _click_.

“How was it?”

“Fine.”

There’s a heavy silence between them. Nick leans up against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, decidedly closed off to whatever advance she’s about to try next.

“So,” he tries, fighting down the nervous anger that rises up in the back of his throat. “You should probably get going. Early day tomorrow.”

Jess frowns at him, almost a little surprised. He’s never tried to kick her out before, even before they were dating. Despite his feigned protests, he let her come and go as she pleased, invading his personal space whenever she seemed fit, and he was weirdly content to let her do it. Whether it was her leaning up against his desk at work or her sitting on his bed beside him to talk about whatever was on her mind, he never turned her away, too in love with her to give up any moment they could possibly share together.

“I was hoping I could stay the night.”

There’s a dull ache in his chest at her words and the note of almost betrayal that accompanies them. It fucking hurts to treat her like this, to go against his nature and try to shove her away, even when he knows it’s for the best.

“I…” he trails off, pausing to take a reaffirming breath. “I think it’d be better if you left.”

Jess’ face falls and Nick’s heart plummets into the pit of his stomach at the way she looks at him, almost like she’s about to cry. Fuck. That’s the last thing he needs right now. It nearly kills him to see her like this. Every one of his instincts is screaming for him to comfort her, to wrap her up in her arms and promise her the world to try and make her feel better. But he can’t, because they need more than that, because they can’t go on ignoring all the consequences of their actions for any longer. He can’t let her drag him around like this again, because he’s just going to spiral even harder and hit a whole new level of rock bottom.

So instead of giving in, he shoves the guilt further down and does his best to push on. “Cause, you know, it’s not really fair for us to do this, not to Sam.”

A dawning look of realization comes over her face. “That’s not what this is about,” Jess insists.

“Then what is it about?”

“Nick, I swear, it’s…” Jess’ jaw tightens, her eyes hardening in resolve. “It’s not because of that. I wanted this because I’m still in love with you. Not because of Sam, or-”

“Why?”

“I love you.”

_“Why?”_ he repeats again, imploring her for a better response than that, one that answers his fucking question, not some easy cop out that’s guaranteed to make his heart stutter and swarm his head with the emotions he’s been trying so hard to suppress ever since they broke up. She’s just using him. She knows which of his buttons to press, what words will make him ignore logic and reason in favor of trying to win her back.

Jess’ frown deepens in confusion. “I don’t-”

“Why do you love me?” Nick asks again. His hands are clenched in tight fists where they’ve fallen to his sides, his feet squared like he’s about to fight someone, even though the person he’s really beating down is himself. “I’m a piece of shit. My life is in shambles. I haven’t talked to you in five years, ever since I tried to make you choose between a friendship with your ex or the blossoming relationship with the guy of your dreams that you were passionately in love with.”

“Nick…”

“Don’t  _Nick_ me,” he bites out, his anger slowly unfurling from deep in his gut in response to her attempt to play coy and act as if she has no idea what she’s doing to him, as if she isn’t just using him as an ends to the mean of getting whatever she wants. “I’m not the guy that you want. I’m the guy who’s always gonna be the worse version of the guy you really want.”

“That isn’t true,” she snaps back, her own frustration starting to bleed into her words. “You have no idea what I want.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick says challengingly, pointing at her with an accusing finger. “Because you have no idea what I’m really like,  _Jessica_.”

“Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He’s wading into dangerous waters here, but he’s too pissed off at himself and her stubbornness to pay any attention to the warning signs telling him to turn back. “You don’t know about all the nights I can’t remember because I spent them trying to find the bottom of a tequila bottle. You don’t know about the string of shitty one-night stands when I tried to wipe the memory of you out of my system one forgettable night after the next. You don’t know about the fucking  _tens of thousands_  of dollars I’ve pissed away at backdoor poker games, chasing after a feeling I hate more than anything else. You don’t know the fucking half of it, because I’ve done my damn best to keep it from you, to try and preserve what little bit of respect you might still have left for me.”

Jess’ face falls, realization dawning on her face, as if she hadn’t known just what her actions had done to him. “I’m sorry-”

He doesn’t let her finish, because he doesn’t want to hear any more of her excuses. “But you don’t care about that,” he accuses, knowing damn well that he’s pushing too hard, that it’s any moment now before she finally breaks, snapping into two jagged pieces he’ll never be able to mend back together. “I’m good enough to fuck. That’s all that matters to you.”

The silence in the room is deadly, the tension between them thick enough to slice with a knife. Jess doesn’t have anything to say to that, just clenches her jaw and stares him down, her face terrifyingly neutral and her cloudy eyes devoid of anything he could possibly use to try and figure out what’s going on inside her head. But Jess doesn’t turn away from him, staring him down with nothing but a slight lip wobble to betray how she really feels.

Nick finally lets out a long, defeated exhale, his head dropping down to stare at the ground. The anger he’d been building up and up and up is suddenly seeping out of him, leaving him feeling wrung out. His arms are limp at his sides now, and he reaches up a hand to run through the mess of his overgrown hair. It feels like it did forever ago, when they had that big fight over the stupid kid’s toy that ended with them ‘mutually’ deciding that things weren’t going to work out between them. “I can’t do this with you again, Jess. I can’t let you lead me on.”

He looks back at her, his heart thumping in his chest. Nick feels raw, like his skin’s been peeled off with some kind of acid, leaving him stinging and aching and incredibly vulnerable, like his insides have been scooped out and left his chest cavity empty and devoid of any feeling at all. The ball’s in her court now. He’s said what he wanted to, doused the quickly crumbling remains of their relationship in gasoline, and all that’s left is for her to light the match.

Jess climbs out of bed without a word, getting dressed quickly and efficiently, not even sparing him a second glance as she pulls off his shirt to instead step back into her own clothes. Nick drops his eyes down to the floor, equal parts attempting to give her some semblance of privacy and to cover his own cowardice.

“Don’t call me,” she says as she breezes past him, moving so fast he doesn’t have the chance to come up with some snappy comeback. Then it’s her turn to slam the door shut, a resounding noise that echoes in the emptiness of his apartment.

Nick lets out a long sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face in his own disappointment.

_Fuck._

—

He doesn’t hear from her until Monday morning when she arrives at the office. She drops her case notes onto the table and then takes the seat beside him without a word. They sit in a tense silence for a moment, neither of them willing to concede and be the one who speaks first.

After a painful fifteen minutes of silence Nick finally caves, clearing his throat while pretending to flip through a stack of documents. “How was your weekend?” It doesn’t mean anything, a question he already knows the answer to. It’s just an empty gesture, a habitual pleasantry to test out the rift between them.

“Fine.” Jess doesn’t even look up from her work, but her voice wavers slightly during her reply. “Yours?”

“Bout the same.”

He fucked up. He knows that. He ruined things between them all over again, and there’s nothing left to salvage from the still-smoldering wreckage. This was their last chance with each other, because Nick can’t risk another one with her that ends in an even bigger spiral. Maybe last time she didn’t know what their relationship meant to him, or just how hard he hit the ground after they fell apart. But this time she does. Even if she’s still mostly in the dark, she  _knows_.

“Look, Nick, I’m sorry for-”

“Don’t.” His eyes fall shut as a fresh wash of pain and regret hits him in full force. He doesn’t want her pity. He doesn’t want her lies. “Jess, just… Just don’t worry about it.”

She relents to his plea and they fall silent once again, the weight of the room tense. He wants them to be adults about this. And by adults he means like his parents, never talking about their grievances and feelings and instead shoving everything down to be ignored forever. It’s awful, but it’s easier than getting hurt again.

“So, um…” Nick coughs again, anxiety making him jittery with nerves. “Do you think you’re gonna take the promotion?”

That actually gets her attention, and Jess pauses in her note-taking to look up at him. She looks unsure, an expression that’s almost foreign on her. He’s used to confident Jess, the Jess who kicks ass and takes names and has always been sure of herself. This is like a whole other side of her, a puzzle he doesn’t have the slightest idea how to solve.

But he needs to know for sure, to hear her say the words before he can actually believe them. Because once she’s says no, then he’s never going to allow her in his life again. He needs a final answer for them, because he can’t live with the half possibility any more.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, her voice oddly soft. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well you have to make up your mind and stick to it.” His fingers nervously toy with the worn corner of a manilla folder. “You have to think about what you really want and then make your decision. And then that’s that.” He’s not being subtle, but it’s still easier than being completely upfront about it. “It’s not the kind of thing you can only partially commit to.”

There’s an understanding in her eyes, and Jess gives him a solemn nod. “You’re right.”

It’s like stepping back in time, all the way back to the last time she made this decision. Things were out of his hands then, too. He’s laid all his cards out on the table, and now it’s Jess who has to make the final call, whether she’s going to let him back into her life or if she’s going to leave him behind for good. Nick’s not sure which he’s more terrified of.

“They’re not gonna keep waiting for you to choose.”

“I know,” Jess murmurs, that trace of fear and uncertainty still lingering in her tone.

“You’ll make the right decision.” Nick forces his eyes back down to his work, trying to focus in on what’s in front of him instead of all the dark, messy thoughts inside his own head. “I believe in you.”

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me for ending it like this on [tumblr](http://actualbabe.tumblr.com/)


End file.
